THE SOPHOMORE PRESIDENT
"Are you going to dress for Ruth's tea?" asked Doris Sands of Marjorie
Wilkinson, as the girls walked out of the dining-room together.
Marjorie pulled down the corners of her mouth at the question. It did
seem strange to her that Ruth Henry should have decided in such a hurry
to give a tea. There must be something behind it! Probably the girl was
making a play for popularity, so that she might be elected to an office.
"I'm not going. It's just at the time of hockey practice, and, of
course, I couldn't miss that. Lily won't be there, either."
"I'm sorry!" murmured Doris. "Things never seem half so nice without
you, Marj!"
Marjorie smiled gratefully; Doris Sands not only said pleasant things,
but one knew that she meant them. It was too bad that the class
constitution prohibited a girl's re-election as president. The sophomore
class could never find anyone else so tactful, so universally popular as
Doris, Marjorie thought.
"Thanks, Doris," she said. "But I don't see why Ruth couldn't give us
more notice, so that we might have arranged things to go. She never said
a word about it at the reception!"
"Ruth always does things on the spur of the moment, and for queer
reasons," sighed Doris, for the intricacies of the workings of Ruth's
mind were too complicated for her simple, straightforward nature to
comprehend. She and Ruth were exceptionally good friends; but then Doris
Sands was the sort of girl who could get along with anybody. She never
thought of Ruth as self-seeking; merely attributed the measure of
success she obtained to cleverness. She always looked for the best in
everybody.
When Marjorie and Ruth had entered the seminary the previous fall, there
had been thirty-five girls in the class. Now the membership had
decreased to twenty-five, and they were all on rather intimate terms.
Five of these were Girl Scouts: Anna Cane, Doris Sands, Lily Andrews,
Ruth and Marjorie. These were the envied few, the inner circle, the
leaders of the class. From their number everyone except, perhaps, Evelyn
Hopkins, who always coveted good things for herself, expected the class
president to be chosen.
Ruth had invited all twenty-five girls to her tea, although she and her
room-mate, Evelyn Hopkins, scarcely hoped to be able to pack that number
into their room. However, all did not accept the invitation; only
fifteen or sixteen finally appeared.
Doris and Evelyn were passing sandwiches and cakes, while Ruth poured
the cocoa. The conversation, which buzzed from groups in all parts of
the room, was suddenly silenced by the hostess's general remark,
"Girls," she said, still standing beside the wicker tea-table in the
corner, "I guess you wondered why I was in such a hurry to entertain
you, but the fact is, I thought it would be nice to have a little
informal discussion about class matters before the meeting to-night.
Because we don't want to conduct our affairs just any old way, hit or
miss; we want to make ours the best class ever!"
"Hurray!" cheered Doris; "you've surely got the right spirit, Ruth."
Encouraged by the applause of the president, Ruth continued,
"We want a good strong organization, to keep those freshies from getting
their secret meeting, and electing a class president; we want an
efficient president ourselves--not that we can ever get one as good as
our last year's"--she smiled admiringly at Doris--"who will systematize
the whole thing! What do you all think?"
"Good for you, Ruth!" cried Barbara Hill, a quiet little girl who had
always admired Ruth's courage. "We want somebody that will put heart
and soul into the job!"
"I don't think we ought to discuss each other now," explained Ruth;
"that would be too embarrassing. But I just want everybody to think, and
think hard, and not vote for a girl just because she's popular."
"I think Marj Wilkinson would be dandy!" remarked Anna Cane;--"by the
way, she isn't here this afternoon, is she? I wonder why?"
Ruth felt a cold shiver pass over her; no matter how hard she tried to
evade her, her old rival seemed to confront her upon every occasion. She
had really planned the tea for a time when she knew Marjorie could not
come, so that she might put her out of her classmates' minds; but here
she seemed to appear in the spirit, as if to mock her! Was this
fate--for the way she had treated Marjorie the previous year--or was it
merely her own conscience that caused her to dread the mention of the
other girl's name for honors that she coveted for herself?
She reached over and put a lump of sugar into her cup of cocoa before
she trusted herself to reply. When she spoke again, her voice was
perfectly natural.
"Marj would certainly be great as president," she said sweetly; "except
for one thing--and that's the very thing that's keeping her away this
afternoon; she's more interested in athletics and Scout activities--in
fact, anything where Miss Phillips is concerned"--she paused for a
second to allow the girls who were not Scouts time to think it
over--"more interested than she is in class affairs! I begged and begged
her to give up hockey this afternoon, but she wouldn't! And I think our
president, whoever she is, especially at this important time, should
give all the interest possible to the class."
"That's right, Ruth," agreed Evelyn, who had really been coached upon
what to say in the case of such a situation arising. "And another
thing--why don't we save Marj for senior president? She'd make a
perfectly wonderful one then!"
"Yes, that's a good idea," commented Doris; and here the conversation
lost its general tone. But Ruth felt satisfied; the purpose of her tea
had not been in vain. She had sown the seed of opposition to Marjorie,
and even if she herself were not elected to the office, she would have
the satisfaction of knowing that she had kept Marjorie from it. And
senior year was a long way off; perhaps Marjorie might lose her
popularity by then. At any rate, she felt assured that the present
danger was avoided.
It was only quarter of eight when she and Evelyn made their way to the
English class-room, where Doris had scheduled the class meeting. The
president and one or two others were already there. But Ruth had no
intention of discussing the matter again; indeed, her idea in coming
early was to ward off any attempt to change the sentiment she had
started at her tea.
By eight o'clock, nearly twenty girls had arrived, and Doris called the
meeting to order.
"I don't see why people can't be interested enough to come on time!"
remarked Ruth, significantly. The observation seemed general, but as
Marjorie Wilkinson and Lily Andrews entered the room a few minutes
later, when the roll was being called, the girls remembered the remark,
and the shaft went home.
"I certainly want to congratulate the reception committee," said Doris
at the beginning of the meeting,--"and particularly Marjorie Wilkinson
as chairman. I'm sure we couldn't have given the freshmen a lovelier
party!"
Marjorie blushed modestly at the praise, and Ruth smiled artificially.
No one must think she minded Marjorie's success.
"Madame President!" said Marjorie, rising, "would it be in order to make
a suggestion along the same line?"
"Certainly," nodded Doris.
"Well," she explained, "I noticed at the party--and later--that a number
of our freshmen were pretty homesick. Now wouldn't it be possible for
each girl in our class to sort of 'adopt' a particular girl, to look out
for her, and try to make her happy? I know that the Y.W.C.A. has
instituted that custom in several of the colleges, and it works
splendidly."
"I think that is a charming idea, Marjorie," said Doris. "What do the
rest of the class think?"
Ruth instantly thought of all sorts of objections, but hesitated to be
the first to voice them, lest her opposition might seem too pointed. She
winked slyly at Evelyn; she could depend upon her to rally to her cause.
"Madame President," said Evelyn, interpreting Ruth's silent request,
"would there be enough of us? Aren't there forty freshmen?"
"I thought of that," answered Marjorie; "but I am sure the juniors would
help."
"Juniors!" exclaimed Barbara Hill, scornfully. "We wouldn't want a rival
class to come to our assistance, would we?"
"Seniors, then," replied Marjorie, with annoyance in her tone. She was
interested in the idea itself, not in the details of its execution.
"I think Marjorie's plan is wonderful," put in Ruth, deciding at this
point that she could remain out of the discussion no longer, "but I have
one suggestion to make. You know yourselves that girls of our age don't
like to be pitied and petted! Let's do something, certainly, just as
Marjorie proposes, to make the freshmen feel at home, but I would advise
that we do everything in our power to give them a good, lively
interest--that instead of treating them like the Infant Department of a
Sunday School, we take away their loneliness by some good stiff rivalry!
Let's call them together, and tell them more about their secret class
meeting, and challenge them to try to outwit us! They'll be so busy, and
they'll develop so much real class spirit that they won't have time to
get blue."
"I think that's great!" cried Evelyn, jumping up impulsively. "Let's get
the thing started right away."
"Perhaps we had better have our class elections first," said Doris,
glancing at her watch. "Then we can continue with the discussion
afterwards, till nine o'clock, for I promised Miss Allen I'd close
promptly. Nominations are now in order!"
"I nominate Ruth Henry!" said Barbara Hill, still glowing with
admiration of the girl.
"I nominate Lily Andrews!" announced Marjorie, to the surprise of
everyone.
"I nominate Evelyn Hopkins!" declared Ruth, glorying in the fact that
her loyalty to her room-mate would be silently applauded.
"And I move that the nominations be closed!" chimed in Barbara, again.
The whole thing had been done so quickly that Marjorie's especial
friends hardly realized that her chances for class presidency had
vanished completely. Marjorie herself did not mind: her attention was so
taken up with hockey and freshmen and Scout activities, that she had
scarcely given the matter a thought. Nor did Lily, stunned as she was at
the proposal of her own name for the office, realize her room-mate's
exclusion. But Ruth was so exultant that she could hardly refrain from
crying out in her joy. It seemed to her that her dearest wish was about
to come true. Two easier opponents, she thought, could not possibly have
been selected: Lily Andrews would never be elected--she was too fat and
plain; and Evelyn Hopkins--light, frivolous, self-centered girl that she
was--was decidedly unpopular. The outcome of the business seemed assured
in Ruth's favor; she was so certain of her own election, that she did
not even bother to vote for herself, but instead cast her ballot for
Evelyn.
Clerks and a judge of the election were appointed, and the voting was
quickly concluded. While they withdrew to count the ballots, the others
proceeded to discuss a time at which to call the freshmen class
together, to emphasize the importance of securing their own meeting.
Wednesday afternoon was finally decided upon.
The judge of elections returned, and stood beside Doris. Ruth looked at
the girl closely, vainly attempting to ascertain from her expression the
outcome of the election; but the latter returned her only an impersonal
stare.
"There was a tie," she announced, "between Lily Andrews and Ruth Henry,
each candidate having received nine votes. We shall need to have
another ballot between these two."
Ruth almost gasped at the announcement; quick figuring allowed her to
conclude that Evelyn must have received seven votes! Undoubtedly the
girl had voted for herself, and, of course, Ruth had cast hers in her
favor--but where had she obtained the other five? Ruth forgot to reckon
on the fact that a number of girls outside of the Scout troop were more
or less jealous of their successful rivals, and would vote for Evelyn
simply because she was not a Girl Scout.
"I'll fix that," thought Ruth; "I'll just vote for myself this time!"
Ruth smiled confidently as the judge again returned with her decision,
she was so sure of victory. Now she was glad she had not made the office
before; it would be so much more honor to be sophomore president!
"I have the honor to declare that our next president will be Lily
Andrews!" announced the girl briefly, and resumed her seat.
And, amid shouts and applause, the meeting broke up, for the hour of
nine had struck.
Ruth Henry was defeated again, but not wholly so; for Marjorie's plan
for befriending homesick freshmen had been put aside, and her chance of
becoming president lost. But--her rival's candidate had won!